


Are You Sure You Want This?

by SeafoamPearl



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeafoamPearl/pseuds/SeafoamPearl
Summary: A spilled drink brings back memories for Fernando and Mark - but do they want to revisit them?
Relationships: Fernando Alonso/Mark Webber
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Partly set in 2013 before Mark retires.  
> Partly set in 2002 - Fernando is 21, drove for Minardi last season and is a test driver for Benetton. Mark is 26 and has just started driving for Minardi.

1

**BARCELONA, 2013**

“I'm going to the bar, who wants what?” Mark shouted over the din at the drivers' table. A night out in Barcelona after an Alonso win was not something to pass up, and most of the drivers had come by the private members' rooftop bar for at least a couple of drinks after the race. They were about as loud as you'd expect a table of racing drivers to be, several rounds in, and even the sound of an Alpha's voice wasn't enough to quiet them down for long.

Kimi didn't speak, but raised his glass decisively in Mark's direction with an arm around Felipe – they both had podium finishes to celebrate and were doing it with rum, which Mark had to respect. Jenson and Lewis were on beer, while Daniel had decided that he was drinking champagne tonight for some mad Daniel reason. Most of the omegas – Jev, Valterri and the two Nicos – were trying out the house special mojitos. Mark was beginning to feel like the only adult present (red wine, always).

  
“Fernando, what about you?”

Fernando looked over from where he was chatting with Sergio in Spanish.

“A Volcano, please.”

“What the hell is a Volcano?”

“Is a short cocktail. Really nice.”

“Didn't know omegas liked short cocks,” Jenson called out. No one was drunk enough to laugh but everyone was drunk enough to groan and throw napkins at Jens for making such a terrible joke – even the omegas, who didn't usually mock the Alphas much.

“What the hell is in a Volcano?”

“The bartender will know,” Fernando said.

The tray Mark carried was teetering and full, and he had even stashed some beer bottles in his pockets to save himself a second trip. This earned him a round of applause when he arrived back at the drivers' table.

“Not bad for a Number Two driver!” Jenson cheered. “There's a multitude of drinks there, Mark, would you say there's 21 or 12?”

Malaysia was still a sore subject but Mark couldn't help laughing. He and Jens had talked the Multi-21 scandal out over a few beers and Mark knew that his friend meant nothing bad by his teasing.

“These English boys, always have something to say,” Mark said.

“Should have asked for an omega to help you,” Daniel said. “I'd have lent you Jev.”

“I am not yours to lend,” Jev said, pulling a good-natured face. Daniel was kidding, but it irked Mark anyway – some Alphas treated omegas, even if they were just colleagues or friends, as submissive items of property.

Mark set the tray down and emptied the beers from his pockets so he could sit down and began passing drinks around. Jens took a long swallow from his and raised the glass to Mark, as if to acknowledge that his joke had been close to the bone. Mark grinned back and sent two rum cocktails across the table to Kimi and

Felipe, who clinked their glasses together to celebrate their podium.

“Wait, wait!” Felipe said. “All three of us should drink. Fernando! Mark, give Fernando his drink so he can toast!”

Mark reached for the mysterious Volcano. Served in a lowball glass, it looked as red as cranberry juice and as dark as whiskey. As Mark picked it up, the smell of sticky sugar mixed with strong booze hit him like a punch in the face.

“Wow, mate, this smells rotten!” Mark held the drink out for Fernando to take. “Are you sure you want this?”

Time stopped.

Fernando's black eyes blazed above the rim of the glass. Mark froze in place, his hand half-outstretched with Fernando's drink, as memories flooded into him, his hull breached.

There was no doubt in Mark's mind that the same memories were filling Fernando's mind. So many of them, so forbidden, so dark, and so delicious.

_Don't think about filling. Don't think about things that are dark and delicious._   
_Don't think about things that have been dead for over a decade, and above all don't let them draw a breath, not now, not after all this time._

Fernando reached out with a “thanks” so quiet that it was entirely lost in the sound of shattering glass, as his controversial beverage fell from Mark's clumsy fingers and smashed on the floor.

“Sorry, mate,” Mark muttered. “Not deliberate.”

“Is OK,” Fernando said. “I have a room here tonight, I'll go and change.”

Mark looked down. Fernando's khaki shorts, and his bare calves, were covered in sticky red alcohol that Mark suddenly longed to lick away.

“Oh, I didn't know they did rooms here,” Mark said, because talking about accommodation might cover the torrent of feelings that were bursting through him. “Do they run to much?”

“Will get you a leaflet,” Fernando said. “Excuse me.”

Fernando squeezed out past Mark as the revelry continued around them. Mark tried not to breathe in, tried not to remember that Fernando was an omega, tried not to remember so many things, most of them sense memories too intense for words.

Woodsmoke. Silk. Eyes like treacle and a voice like sex.

When Fernando had been gone for a few minutes, Mark looked down to find his wine glass empty. He went back to the bar to order another, which he drained where he stood.

Fernando was probably naked by now. Naked and alone.

“And one more,” he said to the bartender, a pretty omega man with dark eyes and small lips that were quick to curve into a smile.

“You drink fast, I should cut you off,” he said.

“I'm a friend of Fernando's.”

“That's the only thing saving you,” the barman joked, handing Mark his fresh wine.

This, Mark thought grimly, didn't feel much like being saved.

Fernando's room was four floors below the rooftop bar where the drivers were partying. He took the stairs, listening to the party recede with every step.

_Are you sure you want this?_

It took so little to bring it all back. That feeling of terror as a young man in England for the first time, his racing career about to begin, learning English at night and Italian when he could, knowing that his big dream was to drive for Ferrari and he had to be ready. Italian came faster, but he worked hardest at English, looking forward to the day when the supermarket stopped being difficult, when he could read road signs instead of recognising them from pure memory, when he wouldn't have to ask his mechanics and his engineers to speak more slowly. He had a chunky mobile phone and calling Spain cost a fortune. He had no friends, so he spent hours on the internet, pretending to be someone else – a mechanical engineering student called Juan working in England on a gap year from university. He had been so painfully lonely. Flavio came for dinner or invited him out as often as he could, but he was a busy man with other priorities. Flavio would joke that a cute young omega guy like Fernando wouldn't have any trouble filling up the quiet nights, and slap Fernando on the back, and Fernando would laugh along.

But it would be worth it. He was a samurai. He wanted to win. This would just make the win better, brighter. An omega boy from a working-class family in Asturias would show the world what he was made of, what omegas could be, what Spain could be.

Until that day at Silverstone.

And everything that followed.

Fernando let himself into his room – messier than he would have liked anyone else to see – and quickly stripped off his shorts, sticky and damp from more than the alcohol, as the memories would not stop coming.

How could Mark just use those words, about a stupid drink? Didn't he know what they meant? Didn't he know that those words were Fernando's heartbeat?

Fernando had worked for every word of his English. None were more special to him than those.

How could Mark have forgotten?

Fernando sat on the edge of his bed, holding a pair of clean, dry shorts, for a long time.


	2. 2002 - Mark

**England - July 2002**

Mark had dressed up.

He knew it was silly. Fernando already knew what he looked like.

And it's not as though this was a date. It was a meeting between colleagues to assess whether one performing a favour for the other was acceptable to them both.

His palms were damp and his mouth was dry. He wished it was the other way around.

The favour was, he had to admit, a little... unusual.

 _Are you sure you want this?_ Mark asked himself.

Yes. He was sure.

Which was why, Mark supposed, he had gone to the fancy menswear shop in town to buy a proper shirt, the kind with cufflinks and a stiff collar. He needed one anyway – Flavio was always on his case about looking too scruffy, not dressing as befitted an Alpha, nor an F1 driver, nor a future world champion. Mark just wanted to dress like Mark.

Except today.

He really should press the doorbell.

With a deep breath, he reached for the small rubber pad and pushed it decisively, like an Alpha.

He had been about to splash on cologne before he left his place – the fancy one his sister had bought him – but that was really daft. Fernando would need to be able to smell his natural scent.

Mark had no doubt that Fernando would have noticed it before, given their occasional proximity at photocalls and press conferences. But no one, Alpha or omega, would want to make a decision like this with their scent receptors compromised, based on a memory of scent.

Mark had certainly noticed Fernando's scent. Like fresh woodsmoke and fallen autumn leaves. His mouth watered even at the thought of it.

The first time he had smelled it was last year, at the Benetton car launch in Venice, the most romantic city in the world. In a grand square named after him (even if history suggested the square was named first, he liked to think of it as his. Fernando standing in his square), Mark had taken a breath as the men rearranged themselves for a photo.

The world had fallen away, leaving just this shy, talented, gentle young man whom Mark had only noticed before in passing. The baby-faced assassin who, in spite of being five years younger than Mark, was showing every sign of surpassing his career. But Venice may as well have sunk back into the sea. There was only Mark and Fernando. There was only the scent of woodsmoke in the salty air.

Mark was older, an Alpha. Fernando was an omega, far from home, struggling with English and with adjusting to living overseas. Pursuing anything would have been against Mark's iron sense of honour. He had shoved inappropriate thoughts aside, stopped burning wood in his stove at home, and pursued friendship with Fernando, nothing more.

The door opened.

Fernando had not dressed up, and Mark's shirt seemed to itch all over at the sight. Fernando wore a t-shirt and sweatpants with all of the confidence of a gorgeous, sought-after omega young man. The confidence didn't reach his eyes, which were downcast and diffident, only rising shyly to meet Mark's own.

“Hello,” he said.

Mark's heart turned over.

“Hi. Hope I'm not late.”

“Not at all. Please. Come inside.”

If only, Mark thought, holding back a growl. He hadn't anticipated the bite of longing he felt at the sight of Fernando – he hadn't realised that one conversation with Flavio and a brief text exchange to arrange this meeting today had inflamed his Alpha instincts so dramatically. But they had.

 _Are you sure you want this?_ Mark asked himself again.

The answering yes in his mind was a bark.

Fernando made coffee and led Mark into his living room. Mark had been here a couple of times before, helping Fernando with plumbers and landlords when he was still learning English and Flavio wasn't around. As if he had read Mark's mind, Fernando smiled. “Someday you must come over when I am not looking for a favour.”

Mark smiled back. “That'd be nice. Could watch some sports.”

“Always good,” Fernando said.

Mark felt the gap where a traditional Alpha/omega courtship should be. He cleared his throat. “I didn't bring a gift. I know it's usual, but...”

“This isn't usual,” Fernando supplied.

“I didn't want to muddy the waters – make things unclear.”

“I can be very clear.” Fernando's eyes were dark – Mark hadn't failed to notice – but they were guileless. “I would like to invite you to spend my next heat with me, as a favour, to help me to cope with it.”

“Thank you,” Mark said. He couldn't be casual with an omega who had offered him something so precious, even if formality wasn't appropriate. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Si. Sure sure sure.”

Mark's stomach turned somersaults.

“Mate, this is a big deal. Flavio said I'd be your first, is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Some omegas like to save that til they bond.”

“Am not most omegas.” Fernando shrugged. “Most omegas are not racing drivers. Not trying to be the best.”

Mark nodded. “And this... will help?”

“Yes. Si. Last heat was so bad, Mark. It had never happened at a race before, around all of the alpha drivers in the paddock, the mechanics, everyone. I was desperate. Would have let anyone do anything to me.” Fernando exhaled with a tiny shudder. Mark felt a sudden urge to gather him close, protect him, but it wasn't a warm, kindly desire. It was deep red, possessive, hungry. If Fernando was that desperate, Mark wanted to be the one he sought.

“What happened?” Mark managed.

“Is only luck that I got to Flavio, he found me illegal suppressants. I spent ninety minutes in an ice bath. At _Silverstone_.”

Mark couldn't help but laugh at that. “For a Spanish boy that must have been bad. Miracle you didn't get sick.”

“Had heat blankets afterwards, and I couldn't have raced if I'd been needed. Flavio got his own doctor, could not admit to the team – they know I am omega, but if they knew it could have cost them a race, cost them points... it was hard enough to convince them to take me. The doctor suggested that maybe an Alpha... if we mate on the first day of my heat, the rest will be bearable. Especially if you knot.”

Mark's heart raced faster than he ever had.

“How do suppressants work? Sorry, I'm a bit ignorant about omega stuff.”

“They make it less bad, but they also have effects on heart rate and mental – alert? Alertness? So people who drive for a living cannot take them. The suppressants that weekend, and the ice, just meant I could make it home and be here alone without Flavio having to watch me.”

Fernando having to be guarded to prevent him seeking out sex evoked many things in Mark. He focused on the compassion.

“When I came out of the heat – is usually three, four days – Flavio asked me about an Alpha. If I could find one.”

“Did you suggest me? Or did Flavio?”

Fernando's face coloured. “I don't remember.”

“Please try. It's important.”

“...was Flavio.”

“Fernando... I'm going to ask you again. Are you sure _you_ want this? If anyone is pushing you towards this, I won't do it.”

“I am positive.”

“But I need you to know how special this can be. You've never mated before. I have.”

“Who?” Fernando asked, a hint of a jealous pout in his voice which Mark decided he'd better ignore.

“A friend back home,” Mark said. “Good bloke, we're still close. Not like that, but good buds. We were teenagers, wanted to know what it was like.”

“Doesn't sound so special for you,” Fernando said. “Why should I be different?”

“You're an omega. You're offering me something so precious. There are men in the paddock who would hurt me badly if they knew you were an omega and I got to...”

“Mate me.”

“That'll always sound strange to an Aussie.”

Fernando smiled.

“I'm serious. There are Alphas who would hurt me to get to you. Who would break down walls.”

“I want an Alpha to help me who does not break walls when he does not get what he wants.”

Mark couldn't argue with that.

“I need you to be sure – now, when you're clear-headed and sober and not when Flavio calls me to tell me your room number and where to find a spare key. You know what brain fog is like. I will only do this if you consent.”

“I want this.” Fernando's eyes were lowered again.

"You don't have to defer to me,” Mark said. “In bed or out of it.”

“Feels weird not to,” Fernando breathed. “You are Alpha.”

“Please look me in the eye when we talk about this.”

Fernando raised his eyes. When they met Mark's, Mark felt as though he had been struck by black lightning. Black lightning that burned every tree in its path, leaving only woodsmoke, woodsmoke, woodsmoke. . .


	3. 2002 - Fernando

Fernando was willing to sit there saying yes until the sun set, if that was what it took.

“When you started driving, did you have a plan for this?” Mark asked.

“Was never a problem before. Heats are a few times a year, and only a few days. It never happened on a race weekend.”

“You had to think it might, though? Someday? We've seventeen races a year now, mate.”

Fernando shrugged. “I never had one with so many Alphas around. I didn't know... how extreme it could get. I thought I could just power through, maybe take one suppressant if I had to. But suppressants are stronger than I thought. And so are Alphas.”

Fernando would never forget his first heat in the paddock. He had never felt so out of control. He was grateful every day that he had retained enough mental clarity to phone Flavio, who had always known what challenges lay ahead. Fernando wasn't the first omega racing driver to make it to F1, but he was one of the most promising in years, and he dreamed of being the first omegan world champion. He was not planning to let his stupid biology get in the way, and he would prove to the world that omegas could do anything they wanted.

Or at least, that had been his dream.

Sometimes his dreams got a little foggy when Mark was around.

He took a mouthful of coffee to hide that he was lost in the memory of the day he first properly noticed Mark, at the Benetton launch in Venice. St. Mark's Square. It felt like fate.

Fernando had been freezing cold, feeling shy, and wanted nothing more than to hide behind the low sea mist. Mark had noticed, and between shots he'd bought Fernando a coffee to keep him warm and lent him a scarf. He'd joked about the adjustment he'd found when he left Australia, that the seasons were all backwards and England was too cold and none of the shops sold the snacks he liked.

Fernando had never told Mark how grateful he was to have a strong Alpha that day, but moreso to have a strong Alpha who didn't behave like one. Mark didn't swagger over, order Fernando to go somewhere warm or boss him around. He saw a shy younger man and was normal with him. If it hadn't been for the heady smell of him – Mark smelled of clean sea water, salt and fresh breezes – Fernando would have suspected Mark was a beta, like most people.

“Are you likely to have another heat at a race weekend?” Mark asked. “How is your cycle?”

“I was never very regular so I don't know,” Fernando said. “Sometimes they cluster for me. Sometimes not so much.”

“So we could agree this and it might never happen.”

Fernando agreed.

“Would you like that?” Mark asked. “If all of this proved... unnecessary.”

Fernando sighed. “I don't know. Yes, it would be good to never feel like that again at a race weekend. But I... I want to know what it would be like. With an Alpha I trust.”

“You trust me?” Mark asked softly.

Fernando nodded.

Mark reached for Fernando's hand. Fernando's whole body awoke, and when he detected Mark's scent. He wanted to dive beneath the waves of the ocean and taste sea salt on his lips.

_A practical business arrangement. A favour from a colleague._

“Then I'm in. If you promise me that you're sure.”

“I am sure,” Fernando breathed.

“Then so am I," Mark said, with a slow smile that washed over Fernando like a crashing wave.


	4. 2002 - Mark

Together they had devised a system. Fernando would request a second room key at every race and give Mark the spare, which Mark would return to Fernando before check-out. If Fernando went into heat, he would text Mark with nothing more than his location, and Mark would find him. At least if someone else read Fernando's messages, they would contain nothing more than innocent place names – Benetton garage, paddock club, motorhome, hotel room – which could refer to anything. Mark agreed to disclose their arrangement to absolutely no one, but in return, Mark had felt brave enough to ask Fernando to agree to something for him.

It was difficult to go on a date with a man you weren't involved with, and had no intentions of having a romantic relationship with, but Mark insisted. He didn't feel comfortable mating with an omega without at least some show of his respect, which is why he rented a private bar for a football match he knew Fernando was looking forward to, and stocked it with beer and snacks. Flavio, the only person aware of the arrangement, teased Mark a bit and asked if he needed to arrange rose petals and candles.

Fernando was too polite to resist when Mark suggested their date for a night that clashed with the footie, so it was fun to watch his face when he realised he wouldn't have to miss it and catch up later. He gave Mark an impulsive hug which lasted a heartbeat too long. They released each other awkwardly and sat. Mark drew them a pint of beer each.

“How did you learn to do that?” Fernando asked.

“Did a lot of odd jobs when I came to England first,” Mark said. “Kept a roof over me, and petrol in the car.”

“Was it very scary? So far from home? Lonely?”

“For a while. But I like it here. When I make some more money I'm gonna buy a place back home.”

“And go back for good?”

“No, maybe for the off seasons. I'm kinda settled here now. I have my mates.”

Fernando's nod was sad.

“How about you? Many friends here yet?”

“One or two,” Fernando said. “Mostly online.”

Mark smiled. “Gotta meet some real people, mate. It's the only way you'll find your feet. You should come out with some of my guys sometime. They're a good bunch.”

“Alphas?”

“A mix,” Mark said. “Just between you and me, Alphas get really boring after a while.”

“You don't.” Fernando's blush was almost enough to make Mark spill his beer.

“Just wait, I'll get there. Almost time for kick-off.”

Fernando switched on the large screen TV and they settled in to watch. Fernando watched the game; Mark watched Fernando.

Fernando's phone was on the table, but it didn't flash once during the game. Mark was beginning to suspect he was lonely and scared, and that's why he'd asked Mark about his early days. Mark wondered why he was coming to a colleague asked for this intimate favour, rather than flashing those black eyes at anyone who crossed his path and having his pick of Alphas. Mark might be biased, because he genuinely liked the guy, but Fernando was one of the most beautiful omegas he had ever seen. Not to mention talented, tenacious and smart.

The penny dropped. Of course, a lot of Alphas didn't want a strong, beautiful omega. They wanted to feel superior. They wanted someone weaker to need them.

Mark wanted none of those things. He wanted to find the right person to worship.

Not that this was about the right person. Or worship. This was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Fernando got the ability to keep racing and Mark got.... Fernando.

_Oh, no. No. Bad heart._

Fernando turned to Mark and his face fell.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Sure, mate, I'm fine.”

“You look sad.”

“Just my face, I guess.” Mark glanced at the screen. It was half-time and he had no idea who was winning. “Another beer?”

“Could you show me how to pour?”

“Of course!”

Mark guided Fernando through pouring a cask ale, a bitter and a Guinness.

“Problem is, now we have to drink all of this!” Fernando joked.

“I think we'll manage.”

“Big job for you. Six beers.”

“You're gonna help me!”

Fernando dropped his eyes. “I was taught an omega should not be drunk in front of an Alpha.”

“I was taught that's bollocks. Do you like Guinness?”

“I've never tried it.”

“See what you think. Alpha's orders.”

Fernando raised his eyes to meet Mark's, and the bite of lust that shot through Mark almost brought him to his knees.

“Well, when you say it like that...” Fernando grinned.


End file.
